


Countdown

by saviormajesty (risolyandiwys)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F, New Years, Post 5B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 07:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6895930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risolyandiwys/pseuds/saviormajesty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way Regina touches her is tender, reverent, almost as if she is worshipping her. / or, Regina and Emma start the New Year with a bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Countdown

**Author's Note:**

> this is another story i originally posted for another fandom, but it's so different it might as well be considered a brand new one. takes place about a year and a half after the s5 finale.

This isn’t a time for introspection, Emma Swan thinks as familiar hands circle her waist and warm breath hits her ear – the right, always so sensitive – and the words being spoken directly into it are low and heated. The shiver that runs along her spine is completely involuntarily.

“How do you feel about fireworks?” There is a pause in which Emma shrugs, murmurs something about liking them. And then, “What do you say the two of us start the New Year with a _bang_?”

Another pause as Emma mulls over her words, tries to decipher the meaning behind them. The hands on her stomach lower and then rise again, settling beneath the cover of her cotton shirt. They are hot against her abdomen. Emma nods once, then twice. “Yeah. Alright.”

And, nope, so not a time for introspection or anything that can be considered hesitation as Regina Mills removes a hand from beneath her shirt, lifts it, and flicks her wrist. They are engulfed in purple smoke and when it dissipates moments later, Emma is staring at her unmade bed.

“When you said a bang, you meant…”

But Emma is unable to finish her sentence because Regina is turning her around and pressing her against the door to her bedroom and is kissing her, and where Emma expects it to be hard and sloppy, it is soft and she kisses Regina back without hesitation. How could she resist when Regina is finally ( _finally!)_ kissing her? When she is digging her fingers into the material covering her hips and pulling her _somuchcloser_? When she starts to tug on her bottom lip and is making the sweetest sounds?

It is nearly enough to make Emma wonder if this is a dream, or if the single beer she consumed hours earlier was enough to get her drunk because she feels utterly intoxicated. Perhaps it is simply _Regina_ that intoxicates her. Yes, she decides when Regina withdraws mere inches and watches her with twinkling dark eyes, crinkles at the corners, and swollen lips turned upward in a languorous smile, that must be it. And, god, the scar on her upper lip is so tempting. Emma wants to lick and bite, and draw it into her mouth and suck on it.

So she does. And when Emma pulls her upper lip into her mouth, Regina releases a ragged sigh that only encourages Emma – makes her bite down and tug, makes her let it go and slide her tongue into Regina’s mouth where it flicks lazily at the other woman’s.

Regina has always had a way of making Emma feel slightly flustered and the sensation is intensified when her hands find Emma’s and their fingers become tangled in each other and then she is guiding Emma toward the bed. There is excitement growing in the pit of Emma’s stomach as Regina slowly begins to undress her, their eyes locked on each other, unwavering. And as Emma does the same to her, taking in every inch of skin being exposed to her, she is suddenly overcome with the notion that whatever Regina wants from her, whether it be one night of passion, of making _fireworks_ with her, or if this is simply the start of something lasting between the two of them, that she will give it to her. Emma is ready and oh so willing to give every part of herself to Regina if that is what she desires.

The television tucked unobtrusively in the corner of the bedroom flashes as it comes to life with a single flick of Regina’s hand and while the impending drop of the ball that signals the arrival of the New Year is something Emma would normally be interested in, has made it a tradition to watch in years prior, the display and excitement currently occurring in Times Square is of absolutely no importance to Emma. How could anything outside of this moment with Regina matter even an ounce?

Nothing else matters, it can’t, because she is descending onto the bed and Regina is draping herself over Emma and all rational thought abandons her. Their legs are tangled together and Regina is propped up on an elbow and every inch of skin touching that of the other woman feels like a live wire. Regina dips her head to kiss Emma soft and slow, slides her tongue between parted lips to flicker playfully against Emma’s. A soft mewl of delight escapes Emma and there is a moment of teasing and quiet laughter and then Regina is kissing her again, so deep, so thorough that Emma feels her toes curl. It is completely involuntary, completely wonderful.

It’s utterly overwhelming being this close to Regina. There has only been limited physical interaction between the two of them – the occasional embrace with their son between them, a hand on an arm or upper back, and once Regina had gripped her upper arms tightly in the middle of an emotion discussion and Emma had wanted more, had wanted to pull the other woman into her arms and hold her. Emma had always wanted more from Regina – _of_ Regina – and now the other woman is all around her and it’s so brand new and _god_ , she loves it but she doesn’t know what to do with it. She wants to sink fully into this moment and enjoy it - _while it lasts_ she thinks regretfully.

Because as much as she loves the feeling of Regina against her, of feeling completely surrounded by this woman, somewhere along the line she had become Emma’s best friend despite a difficult beginning and many differences and conflicts over the years. Regina is the woman she has been in love with for so long now, since before sacrifice and darkness and bad decisions of epic proportions and literal _hell_ ; since before nearly losing her mind over a man she had clung to because she was lonely and desperate for something that seemed an impossibility, who had made her feel like nothing when _she was never nothing_ , who was allowed to live when Regina’s soul mate was not (it wasn’t fair and it still isn’t), who she cut ties with and had no regrets. She loved Regina since _let me die as Regina_ and _maybe we are_ and _you’ve worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed_ and every moment after.

Emma trusted Regina with her life, had placed every ounce of faith she held in Regina and asked her to save her. And she did, in more ways than she was even aware of. Because it was Regina that inspired her to see that what she was doing hadn’t been right, her strength and bravery in the moment she’d crushed the heart of the Evil Queen on a rooftop in New York that gave Emma the courage to let go of the worst parts of herself and rediscover the best.

And while Emma wants to place a hand on Regina’s chest and take a moment to breathe, to tell her that she is hopelessly in love with her, that she saved her from herself and for that she is eternally grateful, she doesn’t. Instead she lifts her arms to rest on the pillows above her head, surrenders herself completely to Regina.

Regina hums in approval and withdraws from swollen lips, drags her fingertips over skin that is damp with sweat, from the curve of her jaw and down her neck to delicate collarbones and her quivering stomach. Emma exhales slowly and watches Regina’s face as she rests her palm against her abdomen. The way Regina touches her is tender, reverent, almost as if she is worshipping her.

“You’re so beautiful,” Regina whispers, her lips falling to the curve of Emma’s jaw. “You’re so much more than I have ever… _could_ ever have imagined, darling.”

“You’ve imagined this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Emma…”

“Do you want this? Do you want _me_?”

“I do. I want this. I want you, unequivocally.”

“Why?”

“You are a child,” Regina murmurs, amusement lacing her words. “Are you always this talkative in bed?”

“It’s just –” Emma pauses for a moment to breathe out deeply, to gather her thoughts and find the right words to say. “You could have anyone you want, and you’re here with me. I might be the savior but I’m just Emma. There’s nothing remarkable about me besides my appetite and my ability to create messes that others have to clean up for me. But you want me. Why?”

“As you said, you’re just Emma, and that is enough reason to want you,” Regina hums and nuzzles her neck for several seconds. And before Emma can register the words, before she can think of forming a response, Regina is kissing her again and it’s even better than the countless kisses Regina has laid upon her lips tonight. The hand resting on Emma’s stomach slides lower, moves slowly over her stomach to the small patch of damp blonde curls. Fingers twist and Emma exhales noisily and spreads her legs as Regina untangles her fingers and trails them low once again, grazes the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

“I don’t want _anyone_. I want you, only you,” Regina tells her firmly, eyes lifting to meet Emma’s. “I want to be with you for as long as you’ll have me, Emma Swan.”

“What if I say I’ll always want you?”

“Then you’ll have me. Always,” Regina swears with a wide, loving smile and god it’s beautiful.

The twinkle in her eyes is all Emma sees as Regina slips into her for the first time, the weight of her keeping Emma tethered to the moment. The touch is brief and withdraws only to brush against her clit, and when Regina enters her again she closes her eyes and releases a sigh of satisfaction.

“Oh,” Emma breathes out as Regina curls her fingers, slides in and out of her at an agonizingly slow pace. Her own fingers find purchase in Regina’s hair when her mouth covers her breast, tongue flicking at a pebbled nipple. “Oh, Reginaaa...”

Emma bites her lip to keep from crying out. Regina inside of her is too much and not nearly enough and she wants to draw this moment out as long as she possibly can and she wants she wants she wants—

—and suddenly Regina is rising, and the groan of displeasure falling from Emma’s lips is followed by a low chuckle.

“I need you closer,” Regina rasps and pulls Emma to her, twists them so she is sitting with her back against the headboard and Emma straddling her thighs. And then her arm is around Emma, one hand splayed out between her shoulder blades, and the other moves between them and Emma is lowering herself onto her fingers and she feels, god, so _full_. Regina is filling her so completely and it’s nearly overwhelming and she doesn’t want this to ever end.

Because while she feels that she is merely crawling toward the release she desperately craves, it seems to barreling toward her - or maybe it’s her that moving too fast - and she doesn’t want this to end. She knows that Regina doesn’t make a promise that she absolutely will not keep, and _I’m with you_ and _always_ is heavy and it sounds a lot like a promise and for the first time she doesn’t want to run when this is over. And yet, she wants to draw this out for as long as she possibly can because this is only the beginning and it’s beautiful.

“Regina,” Emma sighs, lips turning upward. Pushes every though out of her head and focuses on how Regina feels against her, inside of her.

“Look at me, Emma,” Regina demands. Emma lifts her eyes to meet the dark eyes watching her so intently and draws her bottom lip between her teeth hard only to release it a moment later, feels herself tense up because she’s nearly there. The skin beneath her hands is slick with sweat and she grips Regina’s shoulders, drags the fingers of one hand down her back and feels her shudder with delight.

_5..._

“I love you, Emma. I’m yours. Always.”

_4..._

With that admission hanging between them, Emma refuses to take her eyes off of Regina. With her bottom lip caught between her teeth and sweat-covered forehead, her hair messier than she’s ever seen it, Regina has never looked so beautiful.

_3..._

Emma moves her hands to the back of the other woman’s head and her fingers tangle in her hair and Regina lets out a soft groan and leans forward to nip just below Emma’s right ear.

_2..._

Emma is there. The coil inside of her snaps and—

_1..._

The sound of fireworks fills the room and colors flash in the space above them and continues as Emma comes against Regina's fingers, her lips catching Regina’s and kisses her deeply until she can’t breathe. Regina has taken all air from her lungs and when Emma breaks the kiss to rest her forehead on Regina’s shoulder, her chest is heaving and she can’t quite catch her breath. The shoulder beneath her rises and falls as Regina tries to do the same.

“We just made fireworks. Like, literal _fireworks_ ,” Emma says when she is capable of forming a complete sentence. “You actually planned this out, didn’t you?”

Regina pulls her fingers out of Emma, who releases a disappointed sound because like everything else she’d experiences tonight, having Regina inside of her felt incredible and crushed anything she could have imagined, was infinitely better than any fantasy she’d had in the past. Emma falls to the bed beside Regina and when the other woman moves down and faces her, she turns toward her. Emma sighs as Regina places a hand on her hip and shifts closer, fingers tickling sensitive skin as they settle on the small of her back.

“Not exactly,” Regina admits, words carrying a hint of amusement. “I initially intended to only kiss you at midnight, but something came over me and _this_ was the result of it.”

“Well, you don’t hear me complaining,” Emma says. The she smiles crookedly and adds, “It’s just – well, we did leave our family at your house without a word to anyone. I’m surprised our phones haven’t been blowing up because we're missing the party.”

“I might have mentioned to Zelena that I had plans for you tonight, and I’m sure she’s spread the word. Adding unnecessary sordid details of what she believes those plans are, I’m sure,” Regina retorts, rolling her eyes. Ignores the comment that what her sister thinks is happening did happen. “Anyway, back to the point: yes, I planned this. I have been aware of your feelings for me for a long time, since we stood on that rooftop and you watched me crush the Evil Queen’s heart. I saw the way you looked at me, so willing to step in and do it so I didn’t have to.”

“I knew it wasn’t easy for you. I knew it would hurt you to do it,” Emma confesses. “I wanted to save you from that.”

“I know you did, love,” Regina murmurs. “A relationship with you was something I didn’t want initially because I was in no way fit to be with anyone. I needed time to grieve Robin and heal and come to terms with who I am and be willing to open my heart up to love, and eventually I did that. It took almost a year, but I was finally ready for you. I tried to be subtle at first. I tried flirting with you to let you know that what you feel wasn’t completely one-sided, but I suppose when my style of flirting involves more sarcasm than it should when it comes to you, that wasn’t the best decision on my part. I should have just told you when I was ready, should have simply taken the most direct approach. I had planned to do that tonight. No more waiting. I was going to tell you that I love you and that I don’t want you to go another year without knowing that I love you unconditionally, and then I was going to kiss you if you were alright with that.”

“I would have been more than alright with that,” Emma tells her with a dopey grin, her words and face expressing more than a hint of affection. “I’m more than alright with this, too, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, really, but thank you for the confirmation.”

“I mean, we made fireworks together. Actual fireworks. If I hadn’t been in the middle of the most amazing orgasm of my life, I might have told you that I thought it was really cool.”

Regina laughs and Emma kisses her. Catches her in a tender kiss and murmurs the words she’s been desperate to say for as long as she can remember: “I love you.”

“I love you too, you charming idiot. Always.”


End file.
